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“What’s behind this door?”
“It’s a bedroom, alright? Just come talk to me first, and we can—”
I ignore him, sending my boot through the door and watching the thing splinter as it flies open. My eyes find the bed against the large window that overlooks Manhattan, and the outline of a body in the sheets makes my heart pound into my ears.
“Dove.”
Walking to her slowly, I watch her little inhales and exhales through her nap. She’s tired; that’s proved by how she looked a few hours ago when she pressed herself to the window to say goodbye to me. I wanted to headbutt the glass and get her attention, but I couldn’t get to her fast enough.
She was gone, and now she’s here, sleeping soundly in clothes that I know aren’t hers. It’s a T-shirt—a man’s shirt, specifically—and I don’t pull down the covers to see what she has on underneath. I don’t need to know that yet because if it’s nothing, I’ll have a lot of Donahues to murder.
And I’d be slow with my work, too.
I brush my hand over her hair, taking in her pouting, frowning lips. She looks so peaceful, but the light yellow bruise that forms under her right nostril gives me the opposite emotion. I know it wasn’t there before, and the idea that someone laid their hands on her in such a disrespectful manner makes my mind wander further on how I’ll dismember the Donahues one by one.
I’ll make their last moments hell and remind them once more before they find the merciless release of death that they should have never touched a hair on her head.
Before I can sate my temper, Rich comes up beside the bed, his filthy eyes on my precious dove.
“Relax, Carter. She ran into one of my guys as she was running from the detective. She got a few painkillers for the bruising.”
I try to relax with that explanation. “How long has she been sleeping?”
“About an hour. Ever since you called, really.”
It’s impossible to miss the red, puffy swells of her eyes. Tears have dried on her flawless skin, while some are still trying to trickle off the bridge of her nose. “What happened?”
“She was crying, Carter. She got ahold of my phone and saw a news article. It’s not looking good, either. She started freaking out and panicking, then fell asleep in the middle of her sobs.”
I grab his arm and push him from the room. When we’re in the hall, and I have the broken door somewhat shut between us, I ask, “What fucking article is it now?”
My fear is it’sthearticle.
Lilian wants to expose every single sexual encounter I’ve ever had in this city, and I can’t let that taint the way Isabella would see me. She would be devastated to know the circumstances of my healing over Brooke but also to see how, at first, she wasn’t special.
She was another conquest. But that changed when I spoke to her, got to be around her, and especially fucked her. She was everything to me from that moment on, and I haven’t glanced at another woman the same way ever since.
Rich pulls out his phone, a large screen with a dim overcast that shows an article and a photo attached. I scroll past the words to find the pathetic image at the bottom of the rambling article. It’s a horrible shot, taken from the ground in a dark room, but I recognize it right away.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck… She saw this?”
“Yeah, I tried to get it away, but it was too late. She saw the picture.”
I hand his phone back, liable to crack the damn thing in half. I swipe my hands over my face, Tristan coming to my aid, but it’s not going to help. She will never forgive me after this shit has spread. I can just hope she knows I didn’t touch that witch.
I don’t want Lilian. I want Bella, but this pesky journalist doesn’t care about anything except ruining my life. I won’t stand for it. Maybe it’s time I upped the ante against taking her down, but I can’t focus on that right now.
“What do you want me to do, boss?”
“Nothing, Tristan. We will handle Lilian later. I just need to get things in my head cleared. I have to get Isabella home.”
“That’s what I wanted to talk about,” Rich interjects.
“You aren’t taking my girl.”
“I didn’t say I’d take her. I just want to protect her.”
I fight against every instinct to beat this man until he’s limp, but I can’t worry about kicking his teeth in right now. I need to prioritize Isabella and this Killian matter. It seems Rich has ideas for both, and I may as well listen to them. She’s asleep right now, too tired and worn to be moved. I’ll get her home later. Right now, it is time for business.
